


Nightmares in the Eyes of Monsters

by MrEvilside



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Canon Compliant, Daddy Issues, Dark Comedy, Father-Son Relationship, Frostiron Gift Exchange 2017, M/M, Marvel References, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Iron Man 3, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Pre-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sassy Loki (Marvel), or something like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 03:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13181526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrEvilside/pseuds/MrEvilside
Summary: The last thing Tony wants is for Loki to try to take over the world again. The last thing Loki wants is for Iron Man to barge into Asgard for science. They meet in a retirement home for the elderly and donotbond over their daddy issues… but maybe they can strike a bargain.In which Tony pretends not to be Iron Man and Loki pretends not to care about his family.(Part of the FrostIron Gift Exchange 2017. Written forquirky-idealist.)





	Nightmares in the Eyes of Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for quirky-idealist for the FrostIron Gift Exchange 2017, which was a good excuse to get back into fanfictions after working on my own original writing for so long. The prompt was: “Angst with a happy ending. I’m also a huge sucker for identity porn or secret identity/relationship reveals.”  
> I believe in characters who are (duh) in-character, in “Show, don’t tell,” and in plot.  
> Enjoy!

**2014**

**Opening**

Pepper shook her head and heaved an exasperated sigh. ‘You’re being paranoid,’ she said, laying her hands on Tony’s shoulders. She stood behind him as he sat at his desk in the lab, bent over JARVIS’s keyboard.

            Tony acknowledged her comment with a hum, but didn’t take his eyes off any of the six holographic screens floating in the air before him. ‘Sure, I’ll come in a minute,’ he said.

            Pepper gave him a soft peck on the cheek and left the room.

            Even when he felt her lips against his stubble, Tony didn’t look away. Three of the screens showed him Loki’s sceptre from different angles; the others displayed its basic design and major components, a set of readings, and a map of New York City.

            Three hours later, JARVIS observed in a polite tone: ‘ _Sir, it’s 12:09am. Your diagnostics suggest you should rest._ ’

            Tony cast a quick look at the clock on the right-hand side of one of the screens, as if the time would be any different from what his AI had just stated. ‘Where’s Pep?’ he asked.

            ‘ _Miss Potts fell asleep on the sofa an hour and 24 minutes ago._ ’

            ‘Good.’ Tony nodded to himself. ‘Take out the Mark Resilient, will you, J? We’re going for a walk.’

            ‘ _Where to, Sir?_ ’

            Tony pointed at a spot on the map of the City, a tiny circle that glowed red against the blue network of streets. ‘Right there. Wherever that is. Where’s that, JARVIS?’

            Though JARVIS wasn’t programmed to sigh, you could hear it in its voice as it replied: ‘ _Shady Acres Care Home, Sir. Are we taking one of the cars?_ ’

            ‘Pepper’s asleep, right?’

            Without waiting for a response, Tony clasped his hands together and aimed them at the wall behind him. Two sliding metal doors opened without a sound, their colour indistinguishable from that of the wall; behind them was a suit of armour, standing under a bright light like an actor on a stage. Instead of a serial number, _Mark Resilient_ was etched in black onto the thigh plate.

            ‘We’re not taking the car,’ Tony said.

 

*

 

In spite of its name, Shady Acres looked like a respectable brick building in Manhattan. A plaque by the large wooden double doors bore the place name and, under that, it read: “A Retirement Community.”

            Tony swooped down towards the building, ready for one of his flashy landings in the middle of the street, when he caught sight of the plaque and zoomed in on it. He paused in mid-air.

            ‘Hey, when you said “care home”, did you actually mean––?’

            ‘ _A retirement home for the elderly, Sir._ ’

            ‘Right. And you’re one hundred percent certain it’s not, say, some supervillain’s lair or something equally dangerous?’

            ‘ _There are some online reviews about, it seems, their foul chicken noodle soup._ ’

            It was at times like that, when he couldn’t tell whether JARVIS was making fun of him or not, that Tony swelled with pride at the thought that _he_ was the brilliant mind behind the sassy AI. ‘You have the best poker face I know, J,’ he said.

            ‘ _Thank you, Sir._ ’

            ‘And you’re also one hundred percent sure the magic signal came from here?’

            ‘ _You designed the tracker using data gathered from Loki’s sceptre_ ,’ JARVIS reminded him. ‘ _You tell me, Sir._ ’

            ‘Touché.’

            All Tony could see was a couple of men – one older and stocky, definitely care home material; the other one younger, taller, and slimmer, maybe a son or even grandson – making their way up the concrete steps to the front door of Shady Acres. The younger one circled the older man’s shoulders with one arm and held him by the elbow with the other so that the man could lean against him.

            Tony narrowed his eyes. ‘A little late to take Daddy home, huh?’ he murmured, half to JARVIS, half to himself.

            He panned in on the pair and did a double take. He didn’t recognise the older man, who had long, braided white hair, a thick beard, and an eyepatch, but he would have been able to spot the younger one in a crowd.

            He wasn’t even making the effort of hiding himself behind an illusion, as Tony knew he could. At least he was wearing modern-day clothes instead of medieval-style armour. He was clad in a long green trench coat, which was unbuttoned to expose a black three-piece suit and a black tie. He had a silken black scarf with golden embroidery along the hem wrapped loosely around his neck.

            Tony stared at Loki’s unreadable face and saw a wormhole, the Chitauri mothership, and Pep’s picture on his HUD. His heartrate picked up, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and over his top lip.

            ‘J, are we screened?’ he asked in a sudden frenzy.

            ‘ _No one can see us, Sir,_ ’ the AI replied. ‘ _The Mark Resilient is in camouflage mode and the system is one hundred percent operative. Not even Loki’s magic can detect us, based on what we know of his sceptre._ ’

            ‘Good.’ And yet he was shuddering, and his breaths were short and shallow. ‘Good.’

            ‘ _I could alert the Avengers…_ ’

            ‘No!’ Tony exclaimed, then said in a softer voice, shaking his head: ‘Nope, J, we’re not calling anyone. I’m––I’m Iron Man and I can deal with a fucking––’

            ‘ _Technically, you haven’t been Iron Man for six months. Since the Extremis incident_ ,’ JARVIS corrected him.

            Tony hissed a chuckle through his teeth. He was still frozen, floating in the sky, but the familiar banter with his AI was coaxing him out of the panic attack.

            ‘Can you put the suit on autopilot?’ The words crawled off his tongue with some effort. ‘I need to see what Loki’s up to. Any idea who the old man is?’

            ‘ _He has the same body density as Thor and, like him, emits a low magic signal,_ ’ JARVIS explained. ‘ _It’s likely he is of Asgard, too._ ’

            JARVIS took control of the Mark Resilient, which began to dive down towards the entrance of the building. ‘Not like Loki, then?’ Tony asked, picking up on the AI’s wording of its response.

            ‘ _No. Loki has a different body density and the magic signal originating from him is much stronger._ ’

            ‘Makes sense. Let’s hover outside one of the windows,’ Tony instructed, and the suit flew into an empty alley near the care home.

            The windows on that side were tall and narrow, providing a detailed view inside the building. On the ground floor most of them opened on the same corridor, except for one, which showed a small entrance with wooden flooring. On the top floor there was one in each of the residents’ rooms.

            A quick inspection revealed that Loki and his companion weren’t on the lower floor. Tony found them in one of the upstairs rooms in the company of a young nurse in her late twenties. The old man walked between Loki and the nurse, who escorted him to the bed, each holding one of his arms. They helped him sit down on the bed, then the nurse puffed up his pillow so he could lean his back against it.

            Loki hooked one finger into the collar of his shirt to loosen it and adjusted his tie as he spoke to the old man.

            ‘J, can you give me sound?’ Tony muttered under his breath.

            The AI’s answer was the audio fed into Tony’s HUD an instant later. ‘… be back,’ Loki was saying. The nurse was waiting for him at the entrance of the room, keeping the door open.

            The old man lifted a wrinkled hand as if the motion was painful to him, and beckoned him over. Loki drew his eyebrows together into a frown, but he closed the short distance between the two of them and leant down to hear what he had to say.

            Instead of speaking, the old man laid his hand against Loki’s cheek. Both Tony and Loki widened their eyes. Tony’s almost popped out of their sockets when the old man tugged Loki closer and kissed him on the forehead.

            ‘You have a good heart, Luke,’ the old man said.

            Loki swallowed a lump and pulled back from him gently. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he replied, straightened his clothes, and followed the nurse into the corridor.

            ‘I could walk you back to the entrance?’ offered the young woman with a warm smile and the hint of a blush on her cheeks.

            To her disappointment, Loki stared right through her, far, far away. ‘I’ll find my way out. Thank you. I’ll come back to check up on him from time to time. Have a good night.’

            He left the building and turned into the same alley where Tony was. The man’s heart skipped a beat, then started pounding against his chest, louder than the blood rushing in his veins. Tony forced himself to stay calm, breathe slowly, and wait. The Mark Resilient was undetectable even by magic, he reminded himself. He’d built it; he would know. He was safe. He was safe.

            In fact, Loki didn’t so much as look in his direction as he strolled all the way to the end of the alley. He turned once to check that he was still alone, seemingly oblivious to Tony’s presence, then his face began to change, twisting into something unrecognisable. Tony blinked and, when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at the same old man Loki had just left at the care home.

            Except he wasn’t; his posture was straighter, his one eye brighter, and his clothes weren’t of Earth. He was wearing armour in the same style as Thor’s, with a blue mantle over his shoulders, while the eyepatch was black and golden.

            Tony blinked again and Loki was gone.

            It took him a long while to calm down enough to utter the words: ‘J, what the fuck just happened?’

 

*

 

‘What did you do?’ Pepper asked, even though Tony had just explained it to her. She stared at him like she did when he said something particularly Tony-ish, with her lips parted and a frown on her face.

            ‘I donated ten grand to the cause of Shady Acres, a “retirement community”,’ Tony repeated, a million-dollar smile dancing on his lips. He should know that strategy had stopped working on Pepper six years––Never mind. It had never actually worked.

            ‘You donated money to a retirement home?’ Pepper said, very slowly.

            ‘And I’ve been invited to have lunch with all residents and staff next Tuesday,’ Tony continued in a smug tone.

            Pepper looked at him. She looked and looked. Then she looked a little more. At last, she shook her head and gave up. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘What’s going on with you?’

            ‘I thought you’d be happy,’ Tony objected. ‘You’re staring at me like I just sold the company to Norman Osborn!’

            ‘Oh, dear God––’

            ‘I haven’t!’ Tony raised his hands in exasperation. ‘Sold the company to Norman Osborn, that is. The other stuff, yep.’

            Pepper hugged her shoulders and sighed. ‘I hope you’ll explain to me what you’re doing, Tony.’

            Not “I hope you know what you’re doing”, but “I hope you will explain”.

            Tony put an arm around her waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek, but did not answer.

 

*

 

When it was his turn to stand before the serving counter in the large dining hall at Shady Acres Care Home, Tony took a peek at the food on display and pointed to two metal containers. ‘Is that beef and green beans? I’ll get that. And the stir-fry, thanks.’

            The cook was a black man in the white uniform of the care home staff, who looked a little sheepish as he scooped up the beef and beans with a large ladle and poured it on a plate on Tony’s plastic tray. ‘I hope you enjoy the meal, Mr. Stark,’ he said, despite being awfully aware Tony was used to five-star restaurants even Gordon Ramsay deemed worthy of attention.

            Tony wiped away all his insecurities with a shining grin. ‘Smells like a good deed,’ he joked. ‘I’m sure it’ll taste great, too.’

            He picked up his full tray and moved away from the counter, searching the room for a free table. The elderly residents of the care home had yet to get accustomed to his presence; Tony felt their eyes on him and heard their awed whispers as he walked among them. He noticed an old man with white bandages around his forehead and braided hair sitting by himself at a table for four, so he headed in that direction.

            ‘Is this taken?’ he asked, though he was already lowering his tray on the table in front of the chair closest to the old man.

            Odin raised his head and glanced at him with his only eye. For some reason, the eye widened and a flash of recognition brought colour to the man’s cheeks, then it narrowed again, and his face altered into a puzzled expression. ‘No, it’s not,’ the old man said.

            Tony sat down and glanced at Odin’s beef and mashed potatoes. Neither of the two had been touched yet. He dived into his own food with apparent gusto.

            To his surprise, it was the old man who started the conversation first: ‘I know you.’

            ‘Sure you do, I’m always on TV,’ Tony agreed. ‘Plus I was giving a speech in reception about twenty-three minutes ago. No autographs though, sorry. I’m happy to do my one good deed a day and keep crazed fans away.’

            ‘Tony Stark. Iron Man.’

            The way Odin pronounced his full name and superhero identity – his light yet audible Asgardian accent – sent a cold, sweaty shiver running down Tony’s spine. _Space, nothingness, death_. Tony held the fork so tightly the brittle plastic object cracked in his grip. _Stay calm. You’re safe._

            ‘You’re a friend of my son’s,’ Odin continued, suddenly staring at him with the sharp awareness of a younger man. ‘Where is my son?’

            ‘I have many friends.’ Tony shrugged. ‘Care to clarify?’

            As fast as the old man came back to life, his shoulders slumped and the light went out of his eye. He turned away from Tony and stared at his food again. He made no move to touch the cutlery. ‘I have many children. I’m the All-Father,’ he muttered. ‘And I can’t keep a single one of them.’ His eye fluttered shut and his forehead wrinkled as a gutting pain showed on his face like an open wound. ‘Or their mother.’

            ‘Mr. Stark!’

            A tiny woman with a disproportionately loud and high-pitched voice appeared out of thin air at Tony’s side. She had blonde hair tied into a bun and a broad, fake smile on her lips, smudged with poorly applied lipstick.

            ‘Mrs. Dense,’ Tony greeted her, returning the fake smile. ‘What’s up?’

            ‘I just wanted to give you a massive thank you, on behalf of all of us, for coming to see us today. After your exceedingly generous donation, visiting here has made all of us – and the residents, of course – feel so blessed…’

            Tony cut her off, lest the “massive thank you” turned into a six-hour preachy eulogy. ‘My father could be in a care home today if he was still here.’ He glanced at Odin, an unexpected pang of something dreary like _emotion_ kicking him in the shins. ‘It was my pleasure, and the food is great. I love free food.’

            ‘That’s lovely,’ Mrs. Dense answered. ‘Why don’t you come join me and the rest of my staff? Mr. Borrson here can get a little grumpy when he’s with strangers.’

            ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Tony’s perfect smile didn’t falter. ‘I didn’t know––’

            ‘Of course not. That’s perfectly fine.’ The small woman put a hand on his arm and didn’t remove it until Tony looked at it. His skin felt prickly when she took her fingers away. ‘So shall we?’

            Much to his chagrin, Tony started getting up. ‘Cool. Good talk, Mr. Borrson,’ he said, addressing the old man.

            ‘Yes.’ Odin had opened his eye again while Dense and Tony talked, and now watched the latter with an awareness that almost creeped Tony out. ‘Will you come back to see me, please?’

            ‘Sure,’ Tony hastened to say, before an astonished Mrs. Dense could ask for an explanation. ‘I’ll drop when I’m not saving the world.’

            Mrs. Dense couldn’t disagree and Tony felt Odin’s eye fixed on his back as he left the table with her.

 

*

 

‘Hello?’

            A young female voice echoed inside the Mark Resilient suit, sat on a leather couch in the workshop that doubled as a bed when Tony forgot he had a life outside of that place. Jane Foster’s curious face appeared on a tab on the HUD.

            ‘Jane Foster?’ Tony flashed her his trademark First-Impressions-Are-Everything-Son smile, taught to him by none other than good old Stark Sr. ‘Tony Stark. Nice to meet you.’

            ‘Oh. Oh, my God.’

            The words were right, except she wasn’t screaming and going all fangirl-y on him like he expected. She gave her hair a quick, half-assed fix and blinked rapidly a couple of times, then said: ‘Uh, nice to meet you.’

            _That’s what dating a literal god does to you_ , Tony mused to himself. He wanted to shake his head with a disapproving air. Instead, he settled for: ‘Same here. Thor speaks highly of you, and your research shows he only knows half the story about how awesome you are. So I’m wondering what you can tell me about where to find him or get in touch.’

            ‘As chat-up lines go,’ she commented, ‘that needs _a lot_ of practice. Like the part at the end, where you make it obvious you want to get something in return for all your praise? Yeah, forget that.’

            Caught in the act, Tony winced and closed one eye as if under physical pain. ‘Ouch. Sorry. I could have been more subtle.’

            ‘Yeah, you could have.’ She made a pause, and her voice softened. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t help. I’ve been studying Einstein-Rosen bridges for six years and I’ve come to the conclusion they’re what Thor calls “the Bifrost”, but I have no way of opening one on command or use the same… technology? Science? Magic? I don’t even know… to communicate with him.’

            Tony hummed as he pondered her answer. ‘What would you say if I invited myself to visit your facilities?’

            She let out a bitter chuckle. ‘I’d say I don’t have any facility you can invite yourself to. The government doesn’t have nearly enough funds for this sort of research. They don’t like science fiction at the Pentagon, you know.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve been doing what I can with my equipment in my spare time, but I still need to pay my bills.’

            _And Thor isn’t here to help_. She didn’t say it, but Tony heard it nonetheless.

            ‘Well then…’ Tony smiled at her. ‘Can I come see your facilities if I give you a shit-ton of money to buy them?’

            To her credit, Jane’s jaw didn’t drop. Not all the way to the floor, anyway. ‘Why?’ she gasped.

            ‘For science?’ Tony grinned. ‘Do I need a reason to want you to build me a bridge to Asgard?’

            Jane found herself grinning back. ‘Consider yourself invited.’

 

*

 

‘Your Majesty! Your All-Fatherness? Your Godliness? Sire?’

            Each title was marked by a hurried footstep as Skurge did his best to run in his heavy suit of armour all the way from the entrance to the throne at the other end of the golden hall.

            Sprawled on the large seat, his legs dangling from one of the armrests and an elbow on the other, Loki watched him with slight amusement as he plucked grapes off a bunch placed on a silver tray nearby. Clothed in the illusion of Odin’s looks, he could afford to express his mirth, as long as he didn’t smile, for the eyepatch had the fortunate added benefit of concealing his emotions.

            He only bothered to respond when the Guardian of the Bifrost finally halted at the bottom of the steps leading to the throne. ‘Yes, Skurge?’

            ‘Uh, I don’t know if we should worry or something,’ Skurge began, ‘but, uh, no one is trying to get into Asgard, which is good, but some Midgardians are trying to work out how to cross the Bifrost, which might not be so good…’

            ‘Slow down.’ Loki frowned and straightened up into a proper sitting position. ‘Start again. What Midgardians? What are they doing?’

            ‘Stark, the man they call “Iron Man”…’ Skurge paused, the look on his face speaking volumes of what he thought of that moniker. ‘… And your son’s sweetheart, sire. They’re trying to understand the Bifrost with the branch of magic Midgardians call science. Should we do something about it? I mean, maybe she wants to see Thor? Should I send a message saying not to bother as he isn’t here anyway?’

            Loki rubbed his chin, pensive, and arched an eyebrow. ‘How did you find out about this? Last time I checked, you didn’t have Heimdall’s sight.’

            ‘Uh.’ Skurge’s cheeks flushed dark red. ‘I might have gone to Midgard. Once. To… check up on things, after the Dark Elves and all that.’

            ‘You used the Bifrost without telling me?’

            Loki couldn’t decide if he was more angry at the transgression or amused at Skurge’s obvious discomfort as he shuffled from foot to foot.

            Skurge swallowed a thick lump. ‘Uh…’

            ‘And you went to the Avengers and my son’s _sweetheart_?’

            ‘Well, I didn’t _go_ to them,’ Skurge muttered. ‘The bridge nearly opened into Stark’s laboratory. I had to do a lot of work with the sword to counteract their tinkering.’

            Loki tilted his head to the side, his only eye suddenly as bright and sharp as a magpie’s. ‘Was it their doing?’

            ‘That’s what I believe,’ Skurge nodded. ‘But I don’t think they know how close they came. I could even hear their voices, but they didn’t see or hear me. Whatever they’re doing, it’s starting to work.’

            Loki fingered his beard for a while as he pondered the matter. ‘Very well,’ he decided at last as he got up from his seat. ‘Show me.’        

            The Bifrost looked unscathed on their side. However, as soon as Skurge slid the sword into its slot on the golden platform, the doorway showed them the laboratory he had mentioned earlier.

            Loki scrutinised the place, but it was the first time he had seen it. A long table dominated the room, overflowing with notebooks, pens, pencils, and blueprints; complex machines stood against the walls, some on, others off. It was a similar display to what Loki remembered of his first arrival on Earth, the year before, when the Tesseract had opened a passage for him, except now the laboratory was empty, not full of soldiers and scientists.

            Then some writing on the side of the machines caught Loki’s eye. It was everywhere; always the same name. _Stark_.

            ‘How long has the Bifrost been nearly opened onto this place?’ he investigated, tearing his gaze off the laboratory to glance at Skurge with his eyebrows drawn together.

            Skurge’s still reddened face took up a purple shade. ‘Uhh…’

            Loki held a hand up to his temple and heaved a sigh. ‘I don’t believe they are a threat. My son’s friends are friends of Asgard,’ he commented, though his attention was still fixed on the room, and he crossed his arms in a thoughtful pose. ‘However, it isn’t wise of them to meddle with what they don’t fully understand. Perhaps it’s time I paid them a visit.’

            He adjusted his robes, gave them one last, wistful look – they were much more comfortable than any Midgardian outfit – and at last called out: ‘Skurge.’

            In response, the Asgardian’s back straightened like an arrow. Loki tilted his head to the side. ‘Take me to where Tony Stark is,’ he declared. ‘I will have words with him.’

 

*

 

When the sword granted him passage on the Bifrost, Loki let the illusion of Odin’s face slip away from him, replaced with his true one. He basked in the magic of Yggdrasill and plucked some loose rainbow strands to fabricate himself some clothes that would be more apt for a visit to New York City.

            Instead of the suit he had chosen last time, he went for a pair of jeans, a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a blue and golden scarf draped loosely around his neck.

            At the end of the journey, which lasted forever and no time at all, Loki found himself on the front step of Shady Acres Care Home.

            _What the Hel?_ He almost said it out loud, but changed his mind and instead cast a spell to conceal himself from prying eyes. He pushed the front door open slightly and sneaked inside. He waltzed his way through the entrance, the stairs, and the corridors leading to Odin’s room, careful not to step too close to anyone. They couldn’t see him, but he was still solid. _And wouldn’t it be truly inconvenient if I were to walk right into one of them? How embarrassing for a god, to be caught in the act like a child._

As he neared Odin’s room, he heard two muffled voices. One of them belonged to Odin, and Loki came to an abrupt halt when he discovered he recognised the other, too.

            _Please, tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity_.

Loki reached out to place a hand against the nearest wall while he brought the other one to his temple. He blinked furiously, trying to chase away the ghosts he kept locked up in a far corner of his mind.

            _Uh, actually, I’m planning to threaten you._

            Loki’s heart stuttered. He inhaled deeply, but the breath got stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t let it out.

            _If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us…_

Loki staggered and had to lean his whole weight against the wall, as a single hand proved not to be enough to prevent him from collapsing into a boneless heap.

            _There will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can’t find you!_

            Loki curled his fingers into fists and gritted his teeth until his heartrate slowed down and he didn’t feel like choking any longer. He ran a hand through his hair and found his fingers wet with blood. He blinked. The blood was gone.

            Then he heard a sob and had to concentrate to decide whether it was real or not.

            It had to be, because he didn’t remember ever hearing that sound before.

            He had never heard his father cry.

            He pushed himself off the wall and stumbled to his destination. By the time he reached the entrance, he had already pulled himself together and decided to linger by the door, where he could make out what they were saying inside.

            ‘Don’t, uh… I don’t do well with hugs. And I don’t like being handed things. Including hugs. Yeah, I’m not a big hugger, me.’

            It was Stark’s voice. Loki’s eyes blazed with barely restrained fury as rage filled his fingertips with magic. _What are you doing here?_

But then Odin replied, and all the anger went out of Loki, leaving him spent like a consumed candlestick once the fire goes out. ‘Do you know where my children are?’ the old man asked. He sounded faint and tired, like he was at the end of his stick, too, in a much more final way than Loki liked to think.

            ‘Sorry, old man,’ said Stark, sympathetic. ‘We’re still looking for them.’

            ‘When you find them…’ Odin spoke as though each word was made of lead, as though it would be the last one he would ever utter. ‘… Tell Loki I’m sorry. Tell Thor I’m proud.’

            Loki froze. _He remembers my name_ , he mused to himself, the instant before the meaning of Odin’s speech hit him with full force. He rubbed his stinging eyes and grimaced to himself. _Sentiment_.

            Then he clapped his hands, interlocked his fingers, and threw a mantle of pure magic over Odin’s room. Around him, the rest of the care home seemed to stop moving. In fact, the flow of time was intact, but no one would come into Odin’s room as long as the spell worked; it now existed in a separate astral plane, one nobody but Loki could reach.

            He twisted his neck left and right, cracking his joints, let his hands fall at his sides, and walked into the room.

            ‘Step away, Stark,’ he growled, his fingers already prickling with the burning sensation of the new spell he was summoning. ‘For your own safety.’

            To his credit, Stark did step away. He was sitting on a chair by Odin’s bed, but jolted to his feet as soon as he saw Loki shedding his invisibility spell. However, instead of moving away from the god, he stepped between him and Odin, who stared at his son and blinked like he couldn’t quite put a name to his face.

            ‘Don’t you dare come any closer,’ Stark told Loki.

            The god raised his hands and showed him his palms, a serious look upon his face. ‘I don’t mean either of you any harm,’ he announced. ‘I’m only here to take his pain away.’

            They both shifted their attention back to the old man, whose eyes widened as recognition made his face brighten up. He had aged greatly in the few months Loki had spent in Asgard; there were more crinkles around his eyes and mouth, and his shoulders were slumped. Loki’s disguise bore much more strength, authority, and _life_ than the old wreckage before him now, huddled under the bedsheets even though the temperature was rather warm.

            ‘Loki…’ Odin started to say, but Loki silenced him with a flick of his wrist, which triggered the same spell he had cast on him after Thor left Asgard the year before.

            The old man closed his mouth and stared at them like he couldn’t actually see them.

            ‘Hey,’ Stark began, taking half a step towards Loki. ‘What the hell’s that? What do you mean, “taking his pain away”?’

            ‘I mean what I do,’ Loki murmured, as though reciting a poem. ‘And I do what I mean.’

            ‘Spare me the bullshit,’ Stark spat, this time advancing on the god with much more speed and confidence in his step.

            Loki’s eyes were glowing bright green and his head was bent towards the ceiling. Odin was in a similar position, leaning against the pillows on his bed, except his only eye was closed and his lips parted, a whiff of breath and a wisp of magic rising into the air, blending together. Stark grabbed the front of Loki’s shirt with both hands and gave him a hard shake, as if that would be enough to stop the enchantment.

            ‘Leave him alone!’ the man snarled into the god’s face. ‘Leave him alone, you bastard––’

            ‘Let go of me!’

            Magic exploded from Loki’s body in every direction and sent Stark crashing into the nearest wall with a groan. To the man’s disbelief, the noise that followed as he slumped on the floor wasn’t the insane crackle of laughter of a smug villain. Instead, Loki let out a sharp cry that held much more suffering than any individual should bear, god or man as they might be.

            Loki wrapped both arms around his stomach and folded over himself, the same green light in his eyes now gleaming in his mouth and nostrils as well, like it was fighting its way out of his body.

            _Frigga lay on the golden floor of the royal bedchambers, her gowns and hair spread around her like a halo, a pool of scarlet by her side, staining the blue fabric of her dress._

_Odin—Od—Loki fell on his knees and took her delicately, oh so delicately in his arms, and cradled her against his chest and bent his face over hers._

_Thunder struck in the sky of Asgard._

            Loki dropped down in the same position as in the vision – the flash of memory – and threw his head back to utter another scream. He pressed his palms against his closed eyes and dissolved into unstoppable sobs, his whole body shaking so hard it was surprising he didn’t shatter like glass.

            Tony was on the brink of unconsciousness when the second scream brought him back. _Resilient. Call the Mark Resilient. Where is it?_

He snapped his eyes open and looked for the suitcase doubling as his suit, but, before he could activate remote control, his gaze locked onto the scene taking place in the middle of the room.

            Loki was on his knees on the ground, but looking like he could crumble to the floor at any moment, and clouds of green smoke rose from his clothes and skin. Was he on fire? Tony couldn’t feel heat or smell burning. Smoke puffed out of Loki’s nose and from between his lips as he heaved one laboured breath after the next, his chest expanding and contracting at decreasing speed.

            Tony’s attention drifted towards Odin, who seemed asleep and unharmed.

            Tony tested the strength of his legs and arms. If he moved carefully, he could get on all fours without passing out or puking. He pulled himself up into a crouch and at last, using the wall as a crutch, he hauled himself up to his feet. He took a few steps in Loki’s direction, ready to call out for JARVIS if need be.

            However, Loki didn’t even seem to notice him. For all that he hated the god, for all that he couldn’t imagine touching him without having nightmares for days on end, Tony realised he wasn’t staring at the same unhinged creature who had nearly destroyed New York. He was staring at something broken, perhaps in irreparable ways, just like the ARC reactor in his chest reminded him of how fragile he himself was every single day.

            ‘What have you done?’ Tony asked.

            Slowly, painstakingly, Loki cracked his eyes open and raised his chin to meet the man’s gaze. A god, kneeling before a man. Loki chuckled at the absurdity and waved one hand in Odin’s general direction. ‘His memories,’ he murmured. ‘Just a trick.’

            Finally, like a computer running out of energy, he fell down on one side and passed out.

            Tony looked down at Loki, at Odin, at himself, then back at Loki.

            ‘Shit.’

 

*

 

Of all the ways Loki could have woken up from a bad dream, he didn’t expect to be in a hospital gown, in bed, with his clothes folded on a chair by his side, and facing Odin’s single and extremely awake eye as the old man lay in another bed nearby.

            Loki grunted ‘Fuck!’ and pushed himself up into a sitting position. The pain that followed his sudden movement alerted him that, no, this was not another bad dream.

            ‘How do you feel, son?’ Odin asked in a feeble voice.

            _Son? Did the spell not work?_ Loki wondered. Though wary, he answered: ‘I’ll get better.’

            ‘Good. You look like a strong young man,’ said Odin, nodding. ‘What’s your name, son?’

            _Ah_ , Loki thought, relief making him deflate like a balloon popped by a needle. ‘Luke,’ he answered in a much more cheerful voice.

            ‘I’m Odin,’ the old man replied. ‘Nice to meet you, Luke.’

            ‘And you.’ Loki hazarded a friendly wink at him.

            ‘Well well, both of our Sleeping Beauties are awake.’

            The familiar voice sent a shiver of warning running down Loki’s spine, but, when he looked in the direction it had come from, he found himself staring at a grin, not a snarl. Tony Stark’s grin, accompanied by a pair of red-tinted sunglasses.

            ‘Tony!’ Odin exclaimed with unusual excitement as the man strolled through the door like he owned the place. ‘It’s so good of you to visit,’ Odin continued in an affectionate tone as Stark made his way to his bedside and squeezed his hand.

            ‘That’s alright. I’m afraid I gotta go, I just came to pick up our friend here,’ Stark said, apologetic.

            Odin frowned. ‘Already? I thought we could talk a while.’

            ‘Next time, old man,’ Stark promised, then he cast a glance at Loki. ‘Ready to go?’

            Though his voice was amicable enough, Loki sensed the steel in his gaze, concealed by the sunglasses. The god raised his hands to show he was harmless, and nodded. ‘I’ll just put some clothes on. Thank you for the… lift.’

            ‘Don’t mention it.’

            _If you don’t want to cause a scene, be my guest_ , Loki mused to himself as he let his legs dangle from one side of the bed and, supporting himself with his hands, pushed his weight off of it. He staggered, but his strength was coming back rapidly, so he only had to hold onto the metal bed frame for a few seconds before he could stay upright on his own.

            Loki took a quick glance at Stark, who didn’t move nor averted his gaze; the god shrugged, turned his back on the two men, pulled off the hospital gown, and threw it on the bed.

            Odin had seen him naked plenty of times when he and Thor were kids, so Loki had no reason to feel shame in his presence. Stark was different, and the god could feel his eyes on his own back, but the man was staring at him with the same amount of emotion a scientist would display when staring at a lab rat. Examining. Analysing. Wondering, perhaps.

            His undivided attention was also a way of reminding Loki that the human thought he had the upper hand. For now, Loki let him bask in that knowledge as he tugged his jeans and shirt on. ‘I’m ready,’ he declared at last, rolling his shoulders while he spun around to face the others.

            Odin lifted a hand and showed him his palm, spreading his fingers open in a goodbye gesture. ‘Get better, Luke,’ he said.

            Loki hesitated, then raised his hand to mirror the movement. ‘You too, old man.’

            Stark didn’t wait for him. When he saw that Loki was playing along, he turned on his heels, called out ‘See you next time!’ in a gleeful tone, then strutted out of the room.

            Though Stark didn’t slow down, the god fell into step beside him quite easily, thanks to his longer legs, and murmured: ‘What are you doing, Stark?’

            ‘Shut up and come with me before someone recognises you and throws a fit,’ Stark snapped back in an equally low voice.

            ‘Oh, they won’t,’ Loki reassured him, despite doubting the man would believe him. ‘Humans are quite interesting that way; they forget almost as fast as they experience something. It also seems none of them caught my face on camera at the time of the Battle of New York, and I most certainly didn’t bother getting too close. Your SHIELD seems to have taken care of the pictures and videos from Stuttgart, even. But you know that already, don’t you?’ He smiled. ‘You’re just being paranoid.’

            Stark didn’t deign to reply, but Loki was too busy snickering to himself to care.

            In the entrance, they were stopped by one of the nurses, who wanted to make sure of Loki’s conditions before they left, but Stark dismissed her quickly and proceeded to lead the god onto the street and then showed him to the passenger’s seat of an expensive-looking red Audi parked outside of the care home.

            When Stark slid behind the wheel, Loki asked: ‘Are you going to threaten me again? Because, let me tell you, I do like the look of our location. Nice car.’

            ‘Cut the crap, Loki,’ Stark replied, scathing. To Loki’s fascination, the man didn’t so much as touch the wheel or gave a command, yet the vehicle started moving and pulled into traffic. ‘What are you here for? What do you want and what have you done to Odin? Give me just one reason why I shouldn’t punch you all the way back to the hell you crawled out of.’

            ‘Giving me the benefit of a single reason?’ said Loki. ‘Wow, Stark, you’re getting soft.’ Stark didn’t laugh; in fact, the god thought he saw steam puff out of his ears. ‘Fine, tough audience. I’ll “cut the crap”, as you so elegantly put it. Odin isn’t well – he’s what you Midgardians would call “senile”, if you will – so I dropped him off where he can be taken care of. Isn’t that the purpose of a retirement home?’

            ‘Right.’ Stark smiled, too, a smile that was as sharp as the edge of a blade. ‘So if Odin’s here on vacation and Thor’s wherever he is, saving the fuck-ton of realms that keep cropping up…’

            ‘Nine, actually––’

            ‘Shut up, Loki.’ Now, wasn’t Stark spending a little too much time with Thor? He was starting to sound like him, too. ‘My point is, if all of your family are otherwise occupied, then you got yourself a pretty nice and golden corner of the universe to rule, am I right?’

            ‘Indeed,’ Loki agreed. ‘Want to see?’

            It proved to be a good idea of Stark’s that he wasn’t driving, for the heart attack the invitation nearly gave him would have sent the car spinning in the middle of the road. ‘Say _what_ now?’ he sputtered with much less elegance than when he had pranced into Odin’s room less than half an hour before.

            ‘I know what you and Jane Foster have been up to,’ Loki replied in a conversational tone, as though he hadn’t noticed the man’s reaction. ‘You’re trying to build a Bifrost or to find an entrance to it. You’re close, but not enough, correct? Well, I’m offering you a shortcut. I can show you Asgard and you can leave me alone. Sounds like a good deal, no?’ Stark just gaped at him. Loki sighed and added: ‘I’ll throw in a “I’ll never try to conquer your planet again” into the bargain for good measure. Yes?’

            Slowly, Stark’s facial muscles started working again as the man schooled them back into a neutral expression. He turned to stare outside the windscreen and pondered.

            The disembodied voice of his Artificial Intelligence tried to speak: ‘ _Mr. Stark_ ––’

            ‘Mute, J,’ Stark cut it off. ‘OK,’ he said to Loki. ‘Where are you taking me?’

            ‘We can make a stop at your tower first,’ the god said, eyes gleaming. ‘I’d like to finally have that drink.’

            ‘Are you going to throw me out of a window again?’

            ‘As appealing as that may sound…’ Loki sneered in a sarcastic tone, but caught himself when he noticed the shudder coursing through Stark’s body out of the corner of his peripheral vision. ‘That was a joke, Stark. I just like alcohol.’

            Stark let out a long breath and placed both hands on the automated steering wheel to steady himself. He didn’t say anything, but the destination on the main screen changed to: _Stark Tower. ETA: 15 minutes._

            Loki was never a fan of awkward silences.

            ‘You lied to Odin,’ he pointed out. ‘I saw you two together. You’d been talking to him long before I came. You said you’d only just arrived.’

            ‘You’re one to talk,’ Stark replied. ‘You told him you’re called “Luke”. You didn’t even mention you’re his son.’ He wriggled his eyebrows at the god in a way that meant, “Seriously?” Then his voice and face lost all traces of humour, and he continued in a softer voice: ‘When you take away his memories… You can’t destroy them, can you? Magic is a science, so scientific principles apply to it, too. Matter can’t be created or destroyed, so what you do is transfer it. To yourself.’

            All of a sudden, Loki discovered he was a fan of awkward silences after all.

            Stark only shot a fleeting sidelong glance at him, then shifted his attention back onto the street.

            ‘Look,’ the man began. ‘I, uh, my father…’

            Loki gave him a look that could make flowers wither. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re sympathising with me.’

            ‘Yeah, right, no,’ Stark replied.

            They didn’t speak again for the duration of the ride.

 

*

 

‘More mead?’ Loki offered.

            ‘You do like alcohol,’ Tony observed, watching the servant who promptly refilled his golden goblet with suspicion, as if he expected to be stabbed.

            ‘I did say so,’ Loki answered. The servant – a girl no older than twenty-five, judging by her looks, though Tony couldn’t tell her age in Asgardian years – poured more mead into Loki’s own goblet when he held it out to her, then she scurried away in a respectful silence. Tony waited for the god to take a sip before doing the same.

            ‘So,’ Loki added, ‘what do you think?’

            He waved his free hand in an elaborate motion to encompass the whole of the dining hall. They were the only guests sitting across from each other at a long, narrow table, laid out with a sumptuous feast – roasted boar and baked potatoes; bread and butter; sausages cooked in a dark sauce with green beans and carrots; a large tray with a stack of freshly baked pastries; and a bowl full of grapes and strawberries.

            ‘It looks like…’ Tony bit his own lip as his eyes landed on the god. He couldn’t stare at Loki for long; he looked too much like Odin and too little like him at the same time. In comparison, the old man at Shady Acres was a shadow. ‘The people seem happy,’ Tony had to acknowledge, though begrudgingly. ‘Nobody is dying – not because of you, anyway – and the city isn’t on fire.’

            Loki’s sharp grin was most certainly not like Odin’s. ‘Ha. You flatter me.’

            ‘Why me?’ Tony asked. ‘Why would you take me here? Show me all of this?’

            Loki tapped his own temple with his index finger. ‘You’re smart,’ he answered. ‘You would have figured out a way to open the Bifrost to Asgard in the end. It was much easier for me to bring you here and allow you to see that I want nothing but peace with your world, as I have my own to take care of while Thor is away.’

            ‘Why the illusion?’ Tony insisted.

            ‘They wouldn’t have me otherwise.’ Loki’s jaw tightened for a second before loosening again while he smirked once more. ‘It’s just a little bit of fun, really.’

            ‘Does Thor even know?’

            ‘About that,’ Loki started. ‘Perhaps we can come to an agreement.’

            ‘Another one?’

            ‘Come on, you know you like them.’

            Stark rolled his eyes. ‘You need me to keep my mouth shut so Thor doesn’t beat the crap out of you, right?’

            ‘See what I mean?’ Loki’s grin flashed across Odin’s face again. ‘Sharp.’ He paused to give Tony time to refuse the deal; Tony stayed silent. ‘Now, my terms are simple. You stop Jane Foster from attempting to access the Bifrost again, and I shall keep to Asgard as I have done so far.’

            Tony put his half-empty goblet down on the table. ‘No more invasions?’

            ‘That…’ Loki’s visible eye darkened, turning green for an instant, full of the same nightmare that had plagued Tony since he had flown into the wormhole in the sky. _And no, I’m_ not _sympathising_ , Tony mused to himself.

            ‘… Was never my style,’ the god concluded.

            ‘Deal,’ Tony agreed.

            Loki blinked, taken aback by the quick response. ‘Just like that?’

            ‘You showed up on Earth and didn’t kill me, you got into a car with me and didn’t kill me, you downed most of my liquor cabinet and didn’t kill me, then you took me all the way here…’

            ‘… And didn’t kill you?’ Loki raised his eyebrows in amusement.

            ‘We’re already up to four missed opportunities, not to mention all those you could have had in-between.’ Tony didn’t bring up the fact that he carried the Mark 48 in a suitcase he had taken with him before they left for Asgard. Secret measures had better stay secret. ‘You can keep Asgard. It’s not my job to avenge it.’ He toyed with another thought, then promised: ‘I won’t tell Thor.’

            Loki’s smile radiated satisfaction. ‘Well then,’ he said, lifting his goblet in Tony’s direction. ‘This calls for a toast.’

 

*

 

‘What about Odin?’

            Loki stood by the open Bifrost, waiting for Tony to take his leave, and narrowed his eye at the mention of his father’s name. ‘What about him?’ he asked, guarded.

            ‘You should come see him more often,’ Tony blurted out, then wished he could cut out his tongue and eat it, but it was too late. ‘He misses you. Even if you take the pain away, it comes back eventually, and until it does, he is confused and sad.’

            ‘Confused and sad is much better than what he would be without my spell,’ Loki told him in a grim tone. ‘And it does him no good to see me. My presence will make the magic wear off faster. Plus, you’re keeping an eye on him for me, aren’t you?’ Unexpectedly, he winked. ‘Got it? An eye?’

            Unexpectedly, Tony felt the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. ‘Right. Anyway, if “Luke” ever decided to come on visitation day, Iron Man wouldn’t blast the shit out of him. Just saying.’

            Loki hesitated, then offered Tony his hand. ‘Goodbye for now, Stark.’

            Tony swallowed a thick lump in his throat, felt his chest constrict, but still took that hand and shook it. His heart didn’t seem to explode; the nightmare stayed away.

            ‘Bye, Loki.’

 

*

 

**2017**

**Epilogue**

 

Tony paid for Odin’s funeral. Neither Loki nor Thor came.

            ‘Goodbye, old man,’ Tony whispered to the grave as he threw a handful of soil on top of it. As he watched, the dust caught on fire.

            Green, smouldering fire.

            Tony looked around, but none of the few invitees – Mrs. Dense and a couple of former guests at the bankrupt care home with nothing better to do – appeared to notice.

            The flames twisted and took up a recognisable shape.

            _Thank you_ , the fire told Tony.

 

*

 

‘Friends! Loki is alive! Again!’

            When he walked out of his spaceship with a missing eye and a brother in tow, Thor expected all of his teammates’ reactions but Stark’s. For some reason, instead of looking shocked, exasperated, furious, or a mixture of the three, he took a sip from the coffee mug he held in one hand.

            ‘Yeah,’ he said slowly as everyone turned to him, picking up on his lack of surprise. ‘About that…’

            Loki grinned at Stark.

            Much to Thor’s astonishment, Stark grinned back.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed your gift, quirky-idealist! I tried to sneak some identity porn into it, but I’m not sure it worked. If anything, it is “angst with a (kind of) happy ending”, so that part of your prompt was a (kind of) success.
> 
> References:
> 
> • Chronology: This story is set at some point between Age of Ultron (2015) and Thor: The Dark World (2013). For instance, following the events of Iron Man 3 (2013), Tony hides from Pepper the fact he has one suit left and not-so-occasionally dapples in superhero business.  
> • Shady Acres Care Home: the retirement home where Loki dropped Odin off some time between Thor: The Dark World and Thor: Ragnarok. It’s also in the comics.  
> • Mark Resilient: It isn’t an actual suit, as far as I know, but it’s a reference to Stark Resilient, the new company that Tony sets up from scratch after he loses his position as Director of SHIELD and becomes world’s most wanted man as a result of the comic book arc known as Secret Invasion.  
> • Loki’s passion for booze: That stuff is in mythology. For your own pleasure, read Lokasenna. You can look it up online.  
> • Quotes: AKA Easter eggs. Try to find all of them! They’re mostly from the cinematic version of The Avengers.
> 
> That’d be all. Happy New Year!


End file.
